Like Breathing Underwater
by Reyuna Yukimura
Summary: Arthur's brain needs to catch up to what his heart already knows. Featuring: Oblivious!Arthur trying to piece together how he feels about Merlin. Arthur/Merlin. one-shot. R and R, please.


**Authors Notes:** So, I was watching that new version of Arthur that came out on Starz; it's called Camelot. I'm not gonna say much about just incase someone here wants to watch, but I don't think it's going to be my cup of tea. But I'm going to reserve my harsh judgment until atleast the second or third episode is under my belt. Anyway, I digress. After watching Camelot, I went on to watch BBC Merlin on DVD so I can feel more, I don't know, grounded maybe? Or maybe I just wanted to do a comparison between the two shows. I really don't even know what I was thinking actually. All I know is that when I was done with an episode of Merlin, this plot bunny came and bit me in the arse. So, instead of sleeping, I typed this out until I had to go to work, and then came and finished it after work was done. I sort of like how it turned out; I may even be a little proud. PS: if there's anything in there about Periodic Longitudinal Waves or other sound and wave related things of the physics variety...ignore it? I'm also studying for a physics midterm so some stuff slipped in sometimes. I think I got rid of it all. But I thought I should warn you anyway. :)

**About the Fic:** This is supposed to be one of those slow moving fics with Oblivious!Arthur, whose voice is predominant here, and Patient!Merlin, whose voice is...barely there. (Bah, if enough people review about it, maybe I'll write one in Merlin's voice. Who knows? :D ) But yeah, this is Arthur's journey into realizing what his feelings mean and what he wants from them. I tried to make it all warm and I don't know, it's hard to explain. Gah. But yeah. I think it's more a feel you have to get when you read the fic.

**Some Things You Should Know:** For one thing, the entirety of it sticks to season 1. It's also sort of in chronological order, but it backtracks sometimes. There are areas where I kept things as they happened and then there are areas where I took some liberties to make it fit what I needed to fit. Also, I tried to keep Arthur's voice as his, but for some reason, it came out more introspective than anything else. But that's okay because I like to think that Arthur definitely has an introspective side.

It's all cut into segments and it's really like a bunch of small ficlets shoved together onto one page...or something like that. I don't know, I'm bordering on 50 some odd hours of not sleeping here. Don't expect coherency xD This is also my first time writing in this fandom and on top of that, my first time writing in present third. Even worse, this is my first attempt at a genre that isn't humor with a dash of romance. It is a little bit more serious. Granted, there are still bits of comedy in there, but the fic is not overrun with it as per my usual style. IDK WHY I DID THIS.

**Warnings:** Language, possibly some OOC, overuse of italics, teeth-rotting fluff, small amounts of angst, bad writing, bad grammar, bad spelling, bad...badness.

**Disclaimer:** Ok. If I owned Merlin, it wouldn't just be UST between these two boys. There would be closet!sex, i tell you! CLOSET!SEX. But I don't own. I'm just a mere fangirl who sits back, watches the DVDs and picks up on the skillfully placed UST. So don't sue me, ok?

* * *

><p><strong>~Protectiveness, Confusion, and a prince's woes.~<strong>

For the life of him, Arthur can't tell you exactly when it started, this whole protectiveness thing. Although, if he _had_ to make an estimation, he thinks it's about when the stupid prat drank the poison in his stead, that one time when King Bayard was visiting. Arthur figures that that's about the point when he realized that Merlin has all of the self-preservation skills of a mentally addled two-year-old.

In fact, Arthur thinks that his idiot man-servant may have even less, if that were even possible. If anyone can reach those kinds of low on the self-preservation scale, he figures Merlin can and _will, _if the idiot has any say in the subject.

And as though to prove Arthur right and much to the prince's astonishment slash absolute _fury_, Merlin _continues_ to do things that cause his prince and employer to swear up a blue streak over the _pure stupidity_ of it all. Like that time he jumps right to Guinevere's rescue and claims to be a warlock despite the fact that he _wasn't even under suspicion_. And then, there were the countless times when he throws himself in front of Arthur as though it is his duty to die for his prince.

Arthur chooses to ignore the fact that it _is_ Merlin's duty to do. He maintains that only an idiot would value their employer so much as to _die_ for them, royalty or not.

After nearly every 'adventure' that they tend to fall into, Arthur thinks that if dangers unknown don't kill him first, _Merlin will_. Because every time his manservant does something stupidly heroic, a part of Arthur dies from the sheer panic. But of course, anytime he berates the moron for doing such things, the bastard just doles out his most innocent grin, as though that were enough compensation for nearly causing his crown prince to have a coronary...

And so, Arthur takes it upon himself to protect the idiot, _his_ idiot as he'd mentally come to call him, from the outside world. Oh, and from himself too. Arthur sometimes thinks that Merlin's worse enemy is Merlin, himself.

Unfortunately for all parties involved, Arthur isn't too sure about why he feels the need to do this. After all, Merlin is merely a man-servant and Arthur is pretty sure that he could be replaced by someone a whole lot quicker, more efficient or better than him at a million and one things. Merlin is too clumsy and too whiny, and there are actually a whole _slew _of reasons why Arthur should get rid of Merlin and get himself a new man-servant. In fact, his father makes it a point to mention that atleast once on a daily basis. But he doesn't _want_ to switch Merlin out with someone else; he doesn't _want_ someone better or faster or can a million things all at once without a single complaint.

He just wants Merlin. _Merlin_.

This confuses the shite out of him.

He tries to be normal by doing what he always does when he'd confused: sulk and abuse the object of his mental disarray. He makes Merlin do plenty of chores, almost too many and definitely _far_ more than is required of the regular man-servant. And on top of that, he expects it all to be done in a more than timely manner. He sends the man-child to the stocks at the slightest of infractions, nitpicks at every little thing and generally, he's a complete ass to Merlin at every opportunity he gets. He wants to wipe that grin off Merlin's face and assure that Merlin is just as miserable as he is. He wants to make sure that Merlin never realizes just how he really feels, inexplicable or not.

But, in the end, the underlying urge to protect is always there, encroaching on his biggest temper tantrums and mellowing him out far more than anything else ever could.

And so, for his own sake, Arthur starts to incorporate basic self-defense into the mix, making Merlin come and spar with him on a regular basis under the guise of needing a human punching-bag. He figures that turning it into a chore assures that Merlin never finds out about his unnatural obsession with keeping him safe and everyone can be satisfied with the arrangement. Well, except Merlin, who won't stop _bitching _about what he views as _abuse; _but Arthur's okay with that. Granted, Merlin is absolute _rubbish_ with any and all kinds of weaponry, but Arthur figures that with some practice and a whole lot of pure, unadulterated luck, _something will stick_- hopefully.

In the end though, Arthur has long admitted to himself that he'll pretty much always be there for the little bastard, in person preferably, so he doesn't really need to go through all this effort. But, well, better safe than sorry and all that rubbish. Frankly, it puts his mind at ease a little bit and that peace of mind is something Arthur cherishes.

So he continues, generally being a prat (as Merlin likes to call him), protecting the little bastard from everything he can and trying his damndest with the things he can't. It's the best he can do for now, because it doesn't look like Merlin can do it himself at the rate that the self-defense classes are going.

Somehow, Arthur thinks he can live with that.

* * *

><p><strong> ~Trust, Affection and all those other feelings Arthur pretends not to have.~<strong>

Now that he thinks about it, Arthur honestly thinks that he started feeling affectionate towards his idiot man-servant the very first time he set eyes on the man.

Alright, so the incident had pretty much ended in Merlin being told off; Arthur had been his typical self (as was his right) and there was a pervading sense of mutual irritability.

But, well, Arthur distinctly remembers a flare of warmth in his chest when Merlin had snarled at him, all bite and righteous fury in a world where no one dared to oppose the Prince of Camelot, the son of the fearsome Uther Pendragon.

Despite everything that had been said and done, something about the naive man with big ears (and apparently, even bigger morals) had struck a chord in Arthur, thawing him down and mellowing him out just the tiniest little bit. Granted, Arthur hadn't been sure of what that chord _was _or what it _meant _at the time, but it had been easy enough to ignore such drivel in the midst of the ruckus that had followed.

For the record, Arthur stands that he hadn't been taken in by the whole singing beauty bit...she had always seemed a tad off to him.

Anyway, he doesn't have to deal with the unpleasant business of _examining his feelings _until much, much later, like _after_ the ruckus has ended and his father has already made Merlin his man-servant. And by that point, it's entirely too late. By then, it has become one moment on top of another, all fleeting and confusing and jumbled together in a way that keeps turning his world off-kilter. The result is that Arthur doesn't really have any singular occurrence to examine, per se. He only knows that the warmth is always there, but he can't really identify what it is.

And in the end, for the sake of his sanity, he just kinda leaves it be. It doesn't really change the way Arthur is, nor does it change the way he acts. It's just sort of there, constantly in the back of his mind and popping up only when Merlin is smiling at him or otherwise taking up space in close proximity. So, Arthur sees no point in prodding the metaphorically sleeping dragon.

Besides, prince or not, or maybe _because_ he is the prince, Arthur really is rather slow when it comes to emotional understanding. So he feels he's entitled to a bit of leeway on the matter. He doesn't really _do_ introspection, and he puts very little stock in things like warmth and other emotional ambiguities. There are a few things, like trust, that he does put credence in; but those were to be earned by few, and fewer still truly deserved them to the fullest extent.

He's safe in that knowledge, comforted by his own self-reliance. And if he so needed help at some point, he had his knights. Odd, warmth-inducing man-servants didn't have to be a part of that equation.

One day though, rather suddenly, Arthur finds that he has to kick himself because he realizes some things far too late.

For instance, he doesn't realize just how integral Merlin has become in his life and how much he's come to rely on his man-servant until much later than he should. And before he can make heads or tails of the situation, the very trust that Arthur is so choosy about bestowing has been given freely to the man with the wide, welcoming smile and a far too opposing demeanor.

What's sad is that he doesn't even know it.

He doesn't realize it until the Valiant incident, which is _weeks_ after he and Merlin have met and even then, he doesn't even fully internalize it until the words are coming out of his mouth.

"I want you to swear to me what you're telling me is true," Arthur says at some point during the whole debacle.

"I swear it's true," is Merlin's response.

And just like that, the words are out of Arthur's mouth, without even a thought beforehand, "Then I believe you."

Even then_, even then_, it isn't until the entire situation is over and done with, that Arthur lets it hit him: Merlin has somehow become his single-most trusted and valued person, and _he has no idea how it happened_.

Inexplicably, the unnamed warmth explodes within him once more and a huge, giddy grin takes over his face. He chooses not to dwell on just how pathetic that is.

Speaking of the unnamed warmth though, it isn't until after the Bayard incident, when Arthur lays eyes on Merlin for the first time after said manservant has regained consciousness, that the meaning of the warmth hits him like a cart full of melons. He walks into Gaius' little space, feeling unspeakable relief at the sight of the formerly dying Merlin practically cocooned in blankets and attempting to wield a spoon while in such a state.

Just to be clear, Merlin is failing at _eating_, which makes Arthur grin on a whole new level.

Anyway.

It's while they're exchanging their usual witty banter, in which Arthur is also surreptitiously trying to ascertain the welfare of his man-servant, that Arthur is absolutely _flooded_ with the unnamed warmth. Subsequently, with such a deluge to analyze, he's able to name what it is.

Affection. Pure, unadulterated, warmth-inducing _affection_.

And just like that, Arthur is feeling all sorts of proud, like he's cracked the world's most difficult puzzle, which for him, it might have actually been just that. He congratulates himself by nearly _hammering_ Merlin with all the chores that have piled up and that the manservant will have to do once he gets better. But really, he's mostly joking. He's far more concerned with Merlin healing up and he, himself, still needs to come down from the adrenaline high of constant fear.

Every second of the journey to find that leaf, every second spent locked in the dungeons because of his father and right up until Merlin is grinning at him, spoon awkwardly dangling out of hands still too weak to have a proper grip...

God, it's been nonstop terror and the possibility that he might never see that oddly endearing grin or those too big ears again. Arthur thinks he do something like actually cry at the pure _relief_ that floods him when all is said and done.

So, when Arthur speaks of endless chores and then even more chores, it's mostly a joke and a rather pathetic jab at attaining some sort of equilibrium. It's an attempt at normalcy and to keep himself from doing odd things like wrapping Merlin up, putting him in a box and never letting the outside world get into contact with him and his huge ears again.

And so, Arthur continues on, talking away and slowly beginning to feel more and more awkward when he realizes he _can't stop_. God, he'd the Prince of Camelot and he's blabbering like a twit, like _Merlin_.

But then, just as Arthur is reaching the end of his rope, a smile erupts on Merlin's face, fond and warm and kind of sleepy, and just like that, everything is back to normal.

Arthur leaves after that. He doesn't want to ruin the moment. Besides, he'll be seeing Merlin around in a matter of days, clumsy as ever and generally being the worst man-servant that Arthur has ever had.

He doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

* * *

><p><strong>~Jealousy and the Type of Possessiveness that Arthur has Always Known He Has...He Just Didn't Realize That It Extended To People Too.~<strong>

There's really only one or two instances of this one, Arthur is proud to say, and one of them doesn't even really _count_.

The first one isn't even a problem. It's the little crush that that servant girl, Guinevere or something, is harboring on Merlin. Sure, it's irritating that Merlin is flirting with her instead of filling Arthur's goblet with wine _like he's supposed to do, _and he isn't giving Arthur the attention that is due to someone of his station, but Arthur isn't petty. He doesn't mind ignoring the odd, unnamable, burning feeling at his abdomen, right where his chest ends and stomach begins; and he most certainly isn't harboring thoughts of pushing the girl off of the nearest parapet.

That's beneath him. And besides, he doesn't have so big an ego issue that he'd begrudge Merlin some fun at this feast. And if Merlin's version of fun includes hanging around with unknown servant girls, well fine, Arthur can deal with that.

Still, he can't help but think that's he'll be relieved when the feast ends.

And then, of course, everything goes to shite soon after and Merlin gets poisoned and lies dying and there isn't much time to dwell on such trivialities.

So, willingly or not, Arthur has to let it go.

It's the second time around that causes some serious... _problems_.

There's a new guy in Camelot and suddenly Merlin is spending a lot of time with someone other than Arthur and the entire thing rankles worse than a heat-rash in the middle of the summer. There are no words.

Arthur doesn't even know why he feels like this, sort of like he used to back when he was young and hadn't been taught to share. He's feeling all out of sorts and irritated and _he has no idea why_.

It isn't even that Merlin is not getting his jobs done. In fact, the man has been working exceptionally well lately, getting through easily three times as many chores as the average servant. Sure there was still the complaining, but Arthur takes that as proof of Merlin living instead of the bitter, angry diatribe that it actually is.

As far as Arthur is concerned, if Merlin can bitch, then Merlin is breathing and that just means less of a headache for Arthur in the long run. At the very least, Arthur always knows where Merlin is.

Anyway, digressions.

Merlin doesn't let his fascination with the newcomer get in the way of doing his job, at all.

Which is why the negative reaction to Merlin's interest in spending time with someone else _bothers_ Arthur. In fact, it _blind-sides_ him and he can't help but find the situation entirely _upsetting _without even knowing why. Hell, he isn't even capable of _naming_ the burning feeling he gets until much, much later, when everything is said and done. This does not help at all.

It's stupid, Arthur knows, it toes the line of absolute retardation. But he still can't help but snarl like someone is taking away his favorite toy even though there is absolutely_ no reason_ for him to feel like that.

Arthur finds out that the man's name is Lancelot, and here Arthur feels the need to take a moments to sneer at the name. Lancelot indeed, he has to wonder exactly what the wonder-boy has been 'lancing'. But before he can get any actual ribbing in, Merlin is there, all wide, earnest eyes and pleading demeanor, begging Arthur to give the man a chance at being a knight. And Arthur? Well, he can't find it in himself to throw away a perfectly good reason to beat up the new-comer who's been getting on his nerves.

Besides, he needs more knights and the whole 'Nobles Only' rule that his father has installed is not helping in the least. Yeah, usually, there would be all kinds of background checks and questions. But Merlin has assured him that Lancelot _is_ a noble and Arthur trusts Merlin, so everything should be fine.

Except it's not.

It turns out that Merlin has _lied_ to Arthur. Lied, to _Arthur_! And Arthur feels sort of like he's been abandoned by his own man-servant in favor of the shiny new, pretty person that is Lancelot. It hurts and he can't fathom why it should. So, he brutally trains his other knights, actual _nobles_, and derails himself from focusing on Merlin's betrayal.

Alright, so it's not actually _betrayal_. But Arthur tends not to trust people and he gave Merlin that trust on a silver platter only to have Merlin run a knife through it. And the emotional aspects of this situation are _confusing_ and Arthur's head _hurts_ and he doesn't like the heart-burn feeling that accompanies the melancholy. It's bad.

And then, from what feels like out of nowhere, Merlin comes in and apologizes, all earnest and energetic as usual, his face set in regret. Arthur doesn't know when it happened exactly, but somehow, he's already forgiven the other man. And then, best of all, Merlin explains himself.

"It's stupid," he says, serious and wise as he talks about the 'Nobles Only' rule, "The rules are wrong. They are unfair."

Arthur gives it some serious thought and realizes that his man-servant is _right_. But he's not going to tell him that and lose face. So instead, he gives Merlin more chores, ones that keeps him within Arthur's line of sight. And then, things just sort of, snap to normal. Merlin is being Merlin again, hanging around Arthur far more than necessary. And to show that he accepted Merlin's apology, Arthur gives him even _more_ chores.

Things feel relatively light again and Arthur can feel the heart-burn issue ebb ever so slightly, which is like a blessing but not really because it's still sort of there. But Arthur can't make heads or tails of it, so he'll take any reprieve he gets.

After that, some more things happen. And then there is that terrifying instance with the gryphon and as Arthur loses consciousness, he can't help but hope that Merlin somehow makes it out alive. Please god, please.

And he can't describe the amount of gratitude he feels towards Lancelot when he finds out, later on, that he's the one who took down the Gryphon. The 'before it could kill Merlin' is something that he doesn't say, but his entire posture is sort of leaning towards his man-servant without him realizing, and Lancelot is reaching his own conclusions from what he sees.

Arthur tries to make his father see reason. It sort of works but it sort of doesn't. And then, Lancelot is leaving and somehow, a heavy weight is lifting off of Arthur's chest and he doesn't even know what that means.

He simply continues on with his day, after that.

It doesn't occur to Arthur that he was jealous until after the fact, when Lancelot is gone from Camelot and no longer a threat.

He chooses to ignore this new finding altogether. It's not even worth the headache.

* * *

><p><strong>~Loneliness, feeling bereft, and Arthur wondering if there's more to this thing with Merlin than he thought.~<strong>

The only times this really happens, it catches Arthur by surprise, completely.

Merlin's home village, Ealdor, is under attack and he has to go and protect his mother. Arthur can sort of understand. He doesn't have a mother, hasn't had once since he was but a baby, but he can see where the sentiment stems from. And despite what some people like to think about it him, Arthur is not a total waste of human life.

He lets Merlin go to his mother with nothing more than a few parting shots and a smile.

"Well... you've been terrible. Really. I mean it, the worst servant I've ever had," he says, a smile on his face and Merlin retorts back with a happy, "Thank you, sire." Then he turns around to leave.

Arthur should let Merlin go with that, it's clean and there's closure and everything is fine. But for some obscene reason, he _can't_. He calls Merlin's name out one more time. When his...when Merlin turns around with that questioning look that sort of reminds Arthur of a curious puppy, it takes a supreme amount of willpower to simple bid his man-servant, former man-servant, _Merlin_, good luck and walk away. He sort of maybe wants to cling and not let Merlin go anywhere, but he can't do that in good conscience. So he lets it be. Everything will be fine.

Everything is _not _fine, though.

The thing is, Arthur knows that this situation is probably permanent. He knows that Merlin might not ever come back. He knows that. That's been accepted, he thinks. And yet, as he watches his former man-servant ride away from Camelot, it feels a lot like something is _wrong_. It feels like there's a gaping hole in his chest area and he can't seem to draw a deep enough breath to do _anything_. Everything seems dull, everyone seems boring. Noone is fun enough and there just isn't enough _noise_.

It's like he's in a void and he can't get out.

But whatever, Arthur decides, he can deal. After all, it's only one man-servant; there are plenty more where that came from. He won't even remember Merlin in a few weeks, he thinks.

Except, it doesn't work that way at all. No matter how much time passes, the hole is still there in his chest, throbbing and getting worse and Arthur doesn't know what's going on. It all reeks of emotional wounding and lord knows, Arthur is a failure on that area at the _best_ of times. But now, he's acting sort of like a lost puppy who just can't figure out why people keep kicking him, and he knows it. He just can't figure out why or make any attempts at stopping.

It isn't until he sends his third newly hired man-servant running out, on the verge of tears, when he realizes that something is horribly wrong. Or rather, Morgana does. And then she makes one of her speeches and makes him kick into gear and the next thing Arthur knows, he's riding out of Camelot and towards Ealdor.

Without understanding why, Arthur rides hard, not really even taking breaks and he manages to make the week's trip in about four days flat. Seriously. By the time he's there, his horse is on the verge of frothing at the mouth and he himself is about to pass the hell out from pure exhaustion.

But then, he sees Merlin and suddenly, everything is worth it. The world is back in color, there are proper noises as noises should be and that damnable hole in his chest feels like it's been filled back up. Arthur feels rather warm and like he's overflowing with light.

And then, after the obligatory banter and his soon-to-be-man-servant-again's attempts at chasing him away, Merlin just sort of... looks at Arthur.

Arthur is dirty, grimy, hungry, sweaty and cranky as all hell. But then Merlin is sending him that lazy, happy, _content _smile and Arthur is fucking _sold_. Because that trip from hell? It's completely worth it. Arthur is exactly where he wants to be.

Honestly, he can't even begin to comprehend why he missed one measly man-servant so much, and such a terrible one at that. He doesn't even start to understand why his world is suddenly right-side-up just because Merlin is back in his world. And to be honest, it freaks him the hell out. But he's riding too high from the sheer relief at just _seeing_ his man-servant to really care.

Eventually, he gets roped into defending Ealdor and everyone succeeds and Will, Merlin's best friend, dies. But, in the long run, everything is still alright because Merlin is still there and alive and that's really all that matter in the end to Arthur. Merlin Merlin Merlin.

Still though, it's a sudden epiphany for Arthur when he realizes the reasons behind acting the way he did when Merlin wasn't there. It hits him sort of like a boulder.

Apparently, he misses Merlin when he isn't around to bully...

Arthur could even say that he misses Merlin _greatly _when his man-servant is not around to keep him occupied.

Accordingly, when he and Merlin make it back home, Arthur doesn't let him leave for more than a few hours ever again. In fact he makes it a point to keep his man-servant around as much as physically possible and finds more and more chores to pile on the man in an attempt at keeping him around.

It annoys the hell out of the Merlin, which Arthur only considers a bonus.

It is to be noted, however, that the castle breathed a sigh of relief. The prince is a veritable _dragon_ when his world gets up ended.

* * *

><p><strong>~Friendship, Lust, Being there and the Opportunities to Tease Merlin that Arthur Will Take no Matter What, even if it leads to uncomfortable thoughts on his part. He's just~ ~dedicated like that.~<strong>

Arthur is used to making fun of Merlin, a lot. In fact, he's pretty sure Merlin is made to be made fun of, with his clumsiness and his quirks and his general lack of order. And between the chaos that tends to take over Camelot before anyone can blink and the angst that seems to float around in regular intervals for whatever reason, light-hearted entertainment is incredibly difficult to find. This is where Merlin comes in,

If Arthur thinks about it, this is absolutely fine. After everything generally revolving around destruction, mayhem, pain, and injury, it's sort of nice to just relax a bit and make fun of his man-servant for no good reason. Of course, only he's really allowed since Merlin is _his_ man-servant, and whatnot. But that's pretty much a given.

Besides which, it's how men show that they like someone, is what Arthur is told, they pick on the person they like as a way of showing affection. Which, as Arthur had already come to realize, he felt for Merlin in _spades_. And, as a bonus, this is a way in which Arthur can show Merlin just how much he is valued without losing too much face, which is great.

And so, Arthur continues on, what better way to go about doing this than to go on a hunt? He knows Merlin hates it, with a passion even, and he knows that his man-servant would rather be somewhere far, far away than helping in 'the senseless murder of cute and fluffy animals,' as Merlin tended to mumble under his breath. But at the same time, he just can't pass up an opportunity to properly torture his man-servant a little while still keeping him at a ridiculously close range.

Hunting happens to be perfect for this situation, really.

But then, there's a freaking baby unicorn and Merlin is up close to it and it's sort of hysterical but also so very, very endearing in all the oddest ways.

Arthur feels the need to reiterate. _Merlin _right up close to a _baby unicorn_.

And then it stops being funny for a while because Merlin keeps begging him not to kill the thing and he's using that face that makes Arthur feel all odd and want to give in to his man-servant's demands. But Arthur? He has his priorities straight. He shoots the thing, right through the heart, and then proceeds to get to the more amusing parts.

He ignores the part where it looks like Merlin is sort of hyperventilating over a dead thing and he further ignores the part of himself that clamors and sort of wants to coo at Merlin to make him feel better. Arthur is also steadfastly ignoring the part of him that is darkly muttering away about how Merlin never reacted like that when _he_ got hurt.

Again, not worth the headache that it would take to see where that even _came from_.

So, like he usually does, Arthur ignores that which he wishes to ignore (as is his birthright) and proceeds to make fun of Merlin.

"So, care to share, _Mer_lin?" he says a smirk on his face.

But Merlin's just looking at him like he's a monster of some kind and Arthur's sort of getting pissed so he just gets to the main ribbing.

"_Some_one's a virgin," he says, his voice lilting somewhat and coming out sing-songy, "What? Don't want to share your pure, unsullied body?"

And then, Arthur gets quiet because for some reason, as he said it, his mind begins to reel around a singular fact. Merlin is virgin. Some part of him is still with the real world because it's focused on Merlin's face, which by the way, is slowly but surely beginning to resemble a tomato.

That part of him thinks it's really sort of cute.

Almost the entirety of the rest of him have stopped functioning altogether because, it's like he just realized, _Merlin is a virgin._

Here's the thing though, Arthur has no idea why that should even matter. Alright, so the man is a virgin, so what? But it isn't as blaze as that. Arthur is fixating and he knows it; he just doesn't know how to stop it. It's kind of confusing and his body is having reactions that he shouldn't be having and god _dammit_, why is this happening?

After that, things are a blur. Every little thing that Merlin does seems to raise the heat that seems to be surrounding only Arthur and Arthur is _noticing things_ about his man-servant that he wouldn't even _bother with_ normally. Merlin bends down to pick up a carving knife that he dropped and Arthur has to tug at his collar because was it just him or did it just heat up? Merlin smiles at one of the horses, all encouragement and quiet fondness, and Arthur can't stop staring.

Arthur is starting to get sort of fed up.

And then suddenly, as though to remedy his frustration, the part of him that's still attached to the real world zeroes in on one of his knights making a comment and Arthur sort of just...snaps, without meaning to.

"Stop that at once, Sir Kay!"

It's out of his mouth before he knows what he's doing and once it's out, it's out. And well, Arthur sort of doesn't want to take it back.

His knights go all quiet, with wide eyed looks, but Arthur's stopped fixating and that's what matter.

When he turns away, towards Merlin, his man-servant's eyes are doing that thing where they shine with gratitude and, combined with that blush from before, Merlin has this look going about him that makes Arthur feel hot under the collar.

Arthur still doesn't know why.

It's not until an hour or so later, when everything is packed up and they're about to carry the many animal carcasses home that it hits Arthur like a satchel of bricks, and god, it leaves him _reeling_.

He's lusting after Merlin. Oh dear _god_, he's lusting after Merlin.

He can't even begin to fathom that right now, so he just focuses on getting back to Camelot in one piece.

But damned if he can stop himself from glancing at Merlin every once in a while, only looking away when things get to hot to handle.

He's feeling ridiculously blind sided because, god, where is this even _coming from_?

* * *

><p><strong>~Fear, Rage, that Desperate Need to Make Sure that Merlin is alright, and all those other emotions that Arthur would rather not acknowledge.~<strong>

The first time he feels this particular range of emotions, it's all pervading and there and trying to crush him into small bits and pieces. It's the Bayard situation again.

It is to be noted that, at this point, Arthur honestly thinks he should have just ended Bayard while he had the chance because a whole lot of his thrice damned emotional epiphanies have occurred because of the bastard.

It irks Arthur greatly, but that's neither here nor there.

Anyway, Bayard is an annoyance and his little schemes, tricks, _whatever,_ are fucking terrifying where Merlin is involved. Arthur couldn't agree more and quite honestly, he has long since come to the conclusion that he would never feel more terrified than in that incident because, hell, that was a whole lot of fear.

Arthur isn't happy to be proven wrong. At all. Because this time, it's all his fault and he has no excuses to hide behind. By his hand, Camelot is slowly starving to death and Arthur is sort of panicking because, to reiterate, it's all his fault.

Granted, atleast one problem was solved, and they had drinking water back. But the starvation part was still a rather huge problem and it was getting more and more difficult to ration what little they had left.

Merlin was actually being a good man-servant for once, making sure Arthur ate and drank and survived this thing while he tried to hunt down that unicorn master guy. And honestly, this is probably what scares Arthur the most. Because let's face it, it's one thing for Camelot to be facing some crisis or the other at all times. But Merlin never, _never_, acts the proper man-servant. He never does as he's told or what he's supposed to do. He's clumsy at the most inappropriate of times and is generally just _Merlin_, infuriating as anything.

So it rather frightens Arthur when Merlin is suddenly being all...unassuming and subservient.

And then, as though to make him feel worse, Merlin starts to take care of him. He brings him as much extra food as he can scrape up and is starting to be after him to sleep and starts to mother-hen.

Arthur can tell that Merlin isn't doing too well.

The man has always been on the bonier side and has always had a pale complexion. But suddenly, it's like looking at paper stretched too think over a rack of bones. It's sort of obvious that Merlin is starving and Arthur feels like a shit-head. God, what was wrong with him?

It's all his fault.

Arthur makes Merlin eat whatever is in the bowl, under strict orders which Merlin almost didn't follow until Arthur began to literally spoon feed him. And even then, he'll only take every alternate or third bite to what Arthur takes.

It makes Arthur's chest hurt and a heavy pressure settles in, warm and cold simultaneously.

Merlin must live, Arthur thinks in that moment, if no one else, _Merlin must live_.

There are no other thoughts, none of his father or Morgana or his knights or even _himself_.

Merlin becomes _everything_.

After that day, Arthur tries to make Merlin eat atleast half of whatever he brings for Arthur, which works less than half the times. But Arthur is sort of okay with whatever he can get into his man-servant's system to keep him alive.

Once more, Arthur is confronted with the fact that, somehow, his worthless, useless, bumbling man-servant means so much. _So, so much. _And Arthur sort of wants to cry or hold Merlin close and shelter him or just curl up around him and stay there, snuggled in for eternity.

He's beyond caring about his pride at this point. He's beyond fear of magic; it's been overruled by the fear of finding Merlin starved to death one day.

He can't...he just _can't_.

He'll do what it takes to lift the curse, even if involves his death and that of his Kingdom.

Merlin is worth so much more.

* * *

><p><strong>~Love, and Nothing But~<strong>

"I had no idea you were so keen to die for me!" It's a jest on Arthur's part, a carefully prepared chess move in the game to save Merlin's life at the price of his own.

In return, Merlin is all smiles and joking of his own, "Trust me, i can hardly believe it myself." But Arthur sees the lie in those eyes. He sees the trust and the devotion and the heart-breaking will do what's needed to keep his crown prince _safe_.

Arthur is only able to offer a smile in return, wan and slightly crooked, "I'm glad you're here, Merlin."he says, a small laugh in his words and as he watches that brilliant smile bloom on Merlin's face, everything crashes into him at once.

Love.

He can't believe it took this long.

The realization that he loves Merlin, deeply and completely, hits Arthur in what he thinks is the oddest of times. He's about to die, cliché of all cliches and his mind is revolving around a singular fact.

He loves Merlin.

He _loves_ Merlin.

He is _in love_, with _Merlin_.

No matter how he says it or phrases it, the end result is the same, and Arthur can't help but feel like he's the butt of some cosmic joke. It feels sort of like every divine entity in the universe is sitting together and laughing at Arthur's stupidity and his being slow on the uptake.

It doesn't matter to Arthur though, because his thoughts on his epiphany are gone and now, he only has one thought running through his entire head.

A single name.

Merlin. Merlin. Merlin. _Merlin_.

It's like now that he's finished the puzzle and the thing is taking up all of the space in his head.

_Merlin. Merlin. Merlin_. _MERLIN_.

And god, it feels good and bad and great and awful and Arthur feels like he's going to cry because he finally knows _why_.

He knows why he felt protectiveness over a mere man-servant, because he _isn't_ a mere man-servant. He gets the affection and the worry and the general need to have the big-eared man in his presence at all times possible. He gets why Merlin can make him do and feel things with just a smile and he gets why he feels so comforted when the other man just _looks_ at him.

_He gets it all_.

Oh but it's all too late.

_Too late. Too late. TOO LATE._

Arthur is going to die and he's wasted all that time, all that love and carefully borne affection.

Arthur is going to die so Camelot can live, so that _Merlin_ can live. The most important person in his universe needs to continue on to the greatness that only he can achieve, making friends and eventually procreating to have several small, big-eared, disobedient midgets. Merlin needs to be old and gray and filled with love and affection and happiness.

And_ God_, Arthur wants. He wants more than _anything_.

But he can't.

Arthur takes a deep sad breath.

Suddenly, he points to the distance and Merlin predictably turns to look and Arthur pours both cups into one and swallows the poison and the non-poison and the things he wants to say to Merlin and everything. He swallows _everything_.

With his last breath he gazes upon the love of his life, wishing, wanting and gradually fading.

Don't cry, he wants to say, as he notices the tears streaming down Merlin's face and his world is slowly distorting until only Merlin is left. Arthur is atleast glad of that; the last thing he will see is the face of his beloved.

With the last of strength, he manages to reach up and place his lips at the corner of Merlin's. God, the _last of his energy_ and he didn't even manage an actual kiss and his chest hurts like someone his ripping his heart out.

He wants_, he wants._

But he can't have_, can't ever have._

It's excruciating.

Darkness is all that is left in a world that was once bright with realization and hope.

And Arthur is left _bereft_.

Then, suddenly, a second or an eternity later, the darkness is chased away, slowly but surely receding from whence it came.

There is a call of a name, his he thinks, '_Arthur. Arthur. ARTHUR.'_

_Arthur?, _he asks_, _disoriented and so very lost in the still prevalent darkness_, he is I. What would you ask of him?_

_Live!, _the voice cries, choked with desperation and something hot to the touch and yet so very soothing, _live!_

_No reason to,_he says_, none at all. My reason is lost._

And suddenly there's a loud smacking sound and pain begins to enter his floating consciousness.

"You great PRAT," a tearful voice practically screams and then his world explodes in light once more, in light and life and _Merlin_ and _oh god_.

He's alive. And Merlin is safe and sound and still so warm to the touch.

He vaguely hears the sorcerer mutter something about the pure of heart and unicorns being reborn, but he's too focused on gorgeous, tearful blue eyes and sharp cheekbones and large ears and suddenly, the needs hits him with all the force of a rampaging horse.

And then, he's leaning up, grabbing Merlin and kissing him – kissing him like this might be his last chance on earth to do it and he needs, god, he _needs_.

Merlin is holding onto him, his fists curled in Arthur's doublet and wrinkling everything and getting his tears everywhere and Arthur doesn't care because he's too busy trying to suck Merlin's soul through his mouth and _possess all of him_.

The new mantra in his head sounds something like, mine, mine, MINE, _MINE._

Air is not important in a situation like this, Arthur thinks, getting muzzy even as he continued to attack those lips underneath his, air isn't important at all.

There's no need.

But Arthur is disappointed because apparently, Merlin thinks otherwise.

He is the first to break the kiss, and if Arthur is worried at first, all that is taken care of when Merlin simply huddles into him and stays there, _clinging_. Then Arthur thinks that this is alright.

He just settles back, boneless against the glass and exhausted beyond belief, his arms full of the man he thought he'd lost. For now, all he needs is comfort and _Merlin_. And maybe, Arthur thinks, the two aren't mutually exclusive.

Eventually, they'll have to grab their things and make their way back to Camelot, and things can get back to normal. Arthur will continue to pile chores on Merlin and Merlin will continue to bitch and gripe and get things done in a not so timely manner and everything will be _good_.

Of course, Arthur thinks, Merlin will have to move out of Gaius' place and relocate to Arthur's chambers. He expects a bit of a fight, even. But that's okay because Merlin is here and Merlin is his and Arthur's got all the time and resources in the world to convince Merlin of the merits of sharing a space together.

He kinda wants to never let go of Merlin, ever.

He'd suggest being cuffed together so that they have no choice but to always be in each others' presence, but he's pretty sure that Merlin would never agree to _that_.

If he ordered it, as is his birthright, Merlin might actually _revolt_. This would defeat the purpose of always breathing in Merlin. So, and somewhat sadly, Arthur nixes the idea. But that's okay, because there will be other ideas later and those handcuffs might come in handy at other times, in less permanent situations.

But for now, this is okay - good even.

Arthur looks down at the dark crown of hair nestled against his chest and smiles.

This is good, he thinks.

* * *

><p><strong>End Author's Notes:<strong> So how did you like it? I hope it was okay. Maybe? I feel like it was a bit rushed in the end but I tried my best to keep it smooth and whatnot. Haha, I tried, right? That counts!

Anyway, listen, I put a lot of effort into this; many sleepless hours were spent on this piece. So if you would leave a review, my love for you would know no bounds. Seriously, reviews are kinda like sustenance for a writer. It means a lot to be told that your work is good and no, you didn't waste all that time for nothing. So please, **review**.

On the other hand, **do not flame**. There is no need for it. If you have a problem with anything, leave a polite bit of constructive criticism. That's helpful and awesome. Flames, on the other hand, suck. They are like a disease to the writer's mind. Every flame extinguishes a little bit of that spark in the writer until there is nothing left but a cold husk of bitter resentment and inadequacy. So yea, do not flame. Please and thank you :)

All that being said, I hope you enjoyed my first probe into the world of Merlin!fiction.


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